Strictly for Now by Carrie Elks

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

MACKENZIE

There’s never been a doubt in my mind that Eli Salinger is a gorgeous specimen of a man. But apart from the night we went to the club – when he was barely speaking to me – I’ve rarely seen him dress up.

But tonight he’s made an effort. There are no sweats or hoodies to be seen. He’s in a pair of charcoal gray dress pants and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms. He’s leaning on the kitchen door, chatting to the chef, a bottle of beer in his hand.

We spent most of the afternoon in the hot tub, looking out at the lake, making out like teenagers, and then I got to experience the mist fall down over the tree canopy.

It was magical and beautiful.

Then Eli insisted I got full use of the bathroom to get ready. It was actually lovely. I can’t remember the last time I put so much effort into looking pretty, and I’ve missed it.

I showered, shaved, painted my nails, and curled my hair. Then I carefully put on my makeup before putting on the dress I packed after Eli told me we’d be dressing up for dinner.

He’s pulled a table into the center of the living room, two sturdy wooden chairs on either side, set with a white linen tablecloth and fine china. The fire is blazing – I should have known Eli was a fiend for the flames. Most guys are. My brothers turn into little boys whenever somebody brings firewood near them.

The walls are still papered with photos of naked baby Eli. But I ignore them and head for the kitchen.

“Hi.” I trail my fingers along the back of the sofa as I walk. “Something smells good.”

Eli looks me up and down. Then he swallows hard. Good, exactly the reaction I wanted.

He’s made a lot of effort tonight. I want to do the same.

When I reach him he kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear. “You look beautiful.”

I press my palm against his chest. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Come meet Saul,” he says, taking my hand in his. “Saul, this is Mackenzie Hunter.”

Saul looks like he’s in his early fifties. He’s wearing a white chef’s coat and a black bandana tied on his head. Putting down the spoon he was holding, he reaches out his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His handshake is firm. It’s pretty hot in the kitchen but he’s not sweaty at all. “First course should be ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask, because it feels weird to stand around when he’s cooking in Eli’s kitchen.

“Nope. Just relax and enjoy.” He opens the refrigerator door. “You like white wine, right?”

“I do,” I tell him.

“I’ll pour it.” Eli takes the bottle from Saul and pours it into a crystal wine glass. I lift it to my nose and inhale.

“That’s good,” I tell him.

“It’s from Australia. I go once a year to check out the harvests.” Saul leans over the pot he’s stirring and frowns. “More pepper.”

“You can tell that by looking?” I ask him.

“Nope. By smelling.” He grins at me. “And I know Eli loves pepper.”

Eli shrugs. “I like all spices.”

“Except that time you ate a whole chilli,” Saul says. “In your daddy’s kitchen. I’ve never seen a kid turn so red.”

“You’ve known Eli since he was a child?” I ask, interested.

Saul gestures at the living room. “Not since he was that little.” He lifts a brow and Eli looks suitably embarrassed. “I started working here in the summers when Eli was around seven or eight. I was at catering college and needed the money.”

“That must have been interesting,” I say, sipping the wine. It really is amazing. Saul has excellent taste.

“You could say that.” He grabs a carrot and chops it so fast my eyes can’t register the movements. “None of them liked the same thing. This guy wanted steak, Liam wanted chicken, Holden decided he was a vegetarian for a year.” He shakes his head. “In the end, I had to tell them I wasn’t a short order chef. They’d eat what they got and they wouldn’t throw a fit.”

“A good lesson for life,” I say.

“Right? Six pampered boys and me. I had to win.” Saul grins this time. “Anyway, let’s stop talking about this boring asshole. Tell me about you. Eli says you’re from New York.”

“That’s right.” I nod, feeling a tiny pang of homesickness. “I’ve been living there since college.”

“It’s a great place to be. But crazy, too. I ran a restaurant there for a few years. But I decided I actually liked to sleep occasionally.”

“What do you do now?” I ask him. “Apart from cooking for Eli?”

Saul laughs. It’s deep and low. “This is a favor. I owed Eli one.”

“What for?”

Eli and Saul exchange glances. “My daughter got into a little trouble,” Saul says. “Eli and Holden sorted it.”

“It was nothing.” Eli shakes his head. “Just some asshole who needed a talking to. I was in Boston at the time and Saul’s daughter is in college there.”

It’s clear Saul doesn’t want to talk about that, so I change the subject. “Do you work in a restaurant around here?”

“I have a couple of places in Northern Virginia,” he says. “I flit between them. And then do some occasional private work.”

“He’s being modest,” Eli says. “He cooked for Obama when he was in the White House.”

“You did? What was that like?” I lean forward, fascinated. “Do you just walk up to the front door with all the food and ask them to let you in? Does he have a taster to make sure you’re not poisoning him?”

Saul laughs again, good naturedly answering my questions as he cooks. Eli turns on some music – something low and slow – and refills my glass.

And by the time I stop asking stupid things like whether they have a normal dishwasher and what Barack and Michelle are really like, the food is ready and we sit down at the table Saul and Eli laid earlier.

“Won’t you be joining us?” I ask Saul.

He shakes his head. “I’m gonna head out. Got places to be.” He looks at Eli. “Remember the instructions for the next courses?”

Eli taps his head. “I got them in here.” He and Saul hug. “Thanks, man,” Eli tells him.

Saul kisses my cheek and I hug him, too. I wish he’d stay, he’s fun. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I tell him.

“And you,” he says. Then he lowers his voice. “This is the first time Eli’s introduced me to a woman.”

I blink, surprised.

“Don’t tell him I told you,” Saul says, with a throaty chuckle. Then he leaves and it’s just the two of us.

“I’ll have to get his address from you,” I tell Eli. “So I can send him a thank you gift.”

“I’m sure you’ll see him again,” Eli says, and a weird thrill rushes through me. He pulls out my chair and I sit down, then he walks around the table to sit opposite me.

Our first course is amazing. A mushroom, noodle, and chili broth that tastes so much better than it should. I finish before Eli and try to steal some of his, and he covers his bowl like an annoyed boy.

“That’s mine.”

I laugh because I like it when he gets riled. He’s usually so calm and unruffled.

Except for when I’m around. I file that thought away to think about later.

Our main is beef wellington – a huge fillet wrapped with a home made pastry that is so good it should be illegal. By the time we get to dessert, I’m way too full but Saul must have anticipated that and made us the lightest chocolate soufflé with passionfruit sauce you could imagine.

“I’m going to have to marry Saul,” I say, putting my hand on my too-full stomach. “There’s no way another man could make me this happy.”

Eli lifts a brow. “I beg to differ.”

“I’m serious,” I tease. “I’m pretty much pregnant with his beef wellington babies right now.”

Pushing his chair back, Eli stalks around the table and it feels like it’s game on. He reaches for me but I squeal and scramble out of my chair, running away from him.

But there’s not much running away to do in his tiny cabin. It doesn’t mean I don’t love it when he chases me – because I do. But I’m too full and too lazy to run out of his front door and into the cold.

Maybe tomorrow. Tonight I’m ready to be caught.

Eli wraps his arm around my distended waist, and then scoops me up.

“Ugh, I weigh a ton,” I tell him. “And I’m liable to vomit if you don’t put me down.”

“Okay.” He nods.

“I’m serious, Salinger. Put me down.”

So he does. And then he kisses me. Sweet little ones that make my toes curl. He wraps his hands around my neck and pulls me against him.

The man’s stomach is as flat as a pancake. This isn’t fair. Where did he put all that food he’s just eaten?

He kisses my jaw. “I’m still hungry,” he murmurs, sliding his hand down my back.

Something distracts me. Or someone. About a hundred of them, little Eli’s with his apparently big peter. I pull back from him, wrinkling my nose.

“I can’t,” I tell him. “Not in here. I feel like I’m being watched.”

He frowns. “By who?”

“You. Baby you. And your peter.”

He rolls his eyes. “Jesus, woman. You could just close your eyes.”

“I can’t,” I tell him seriously. “It feels wrong.”

With a groan, he scoops me up again. This time I don’t complain. I let him carry me into the bedroom and throw me on the bed, food baby and all.

And then he closes the door, blocking out all views of the interesting wallpaper, and advances toward me with dark eyes. I scoot up the bed, my pretty dress wrapping around my hips, revealing the black lingerie I wore to entice him with.

He glances at it, looking pretty enticed.

“Take them off,” he says. So I do.

And from the way he devours me, he really is still hungry.

* * *

“Wake up.”

I groan and turn onto my side. “Not again,” I tell him. “It’s Sunday. Let me sleep.” Dragging somebody out of bed two days in a row should be illegal. But Eli ignores my protests and opens the curtains, light streaming into his bedroom.

“Are you getting up, or do I have to drag you out?” he asks.

“You’re gonna have to drag me,” I tell him, completely serious. Nothing is going to part me from this bed and comforter right now. Next week is going to be a shitshow and I need sleep so I’m prepared.

A hand wraps around my ankle and tugs. I sit up, but that only helps him drag my ass out of bed. I try to pull away but the man has a grip of steel.

“Okay, okay, stop, I’ll get up.”

I focus on him. He’s wearing shorts and nothing else. And yeah, I ogle his broad, muscled chest because seriously, if I’m opening my eyes this early I need some kind of compensation.

“Come over here,” he says, his voice sweet as honey. He walks to the window and the light bounces off his tan skin.

“Why are you so awake?” I ask him, putting my bare feet on the floor. Ooh, he has underfloor heating. Maybe I’m not so mad after all. “Don’t you sleep? Are you some kind of vampire?”

He ignores me and holds out his hand. I wrinkle my nose and take it. He pulls me in front of him, so I’m sandwiched between his chest and the window. His arms wrap around me as I finally look out.

“It’s snowing.”

“Yep.”

It’s a Hollywood kind of snow. Soft flakes that drift down, coating the trees and grass. Just a blanketing, but enough to make everything look like a Winter Wonderland.

“Are we going to get snowed in?” I ask him. A mixture of hope and dread pull at my chest. Hope because if we do, I won’t be there for my family’s arrival into town. Dread, because I have no idea who will rein them in if I’m not there.

“Sadly not,” he says, kissing the top of my head. The man is hard again. I can feel him pressing against my behind.

I wiggle and he chuckles.

“It’s going to warm up after ten,” he says. “The snow will be gone by the time we leave.”

“At least we’ll have our memories,” I say, feeling a little sad that our time at his cabin will be over soon. “Can we go out in it?”

“I was going to suggest we get in the hot tub,” he says. “But we can go for a walk if you prefer?”

I tap my finger against my lip. “A hot naked guy in a hot tub or a cold walk around a freezing lake. Let me think about that.”

He smirks.

“I’m gonna go for the walk,” I say, reconciled to the fact that I can’t get back to bed. I grab some clothes from my case and head for the bathroom.

“You’d choose a walk over a naked hot guy?” he asks as I open the bathroom door.

“It was a close second,” I tell him.

His phone rings, and he groans. I take the opportunity to jump in the shower, because last night we made a mess of ourselves and the bed.

Again.

I’m under the steaming hot spray when Eli puts his head around the door. “What are we doing on Tuesday?” he asks me.

“I’m going to be trying to not murder my sister,” I remind him. She messaged me last week to tell me she and her partner in the ice skating show are flying in early. The show wants to record them practicing on the ice in front of the team.

And she’s decided that rather than stay at Gramps’ house with the rest of the family, and a lot of the production crew, she’ll stay with me.

I can’t wait.

“Ah right.” Eli looks disappointed. “Liam and Sophie will be in town. Wanted to know if we’re free for dinner. I’ll tell them no.”

“You can go,” I point out. “I’ll be with Isabella.”

“She could come, too?” he suggests. His face is kind. Understanding. And it makes me feel worse.

It’s so lovely in this little cocoon of the two of us. With nobody else to talk about us or judge us. Or film us.

But I know he’s going slow because of me. My fears. Yes, I wore his number on my back, but we still haven’t gone out in public together and it’s not because of him, it’s because of me.

I’ve been kidding myself that if I pretend it’s just for now, I can walk away and not be hurt. But I care too much about him for that.

“She doesn’t know about us.” I pause and then get strong. “Yet.”

“Yet?”

My throat tightens. I feel exposed standing naked in the shower as he watches me. I have to do this. Show him how I feel. It’s not fair to him that I’m holding back because I’m scarred by something that happened all those years ago.

“I can’t tell her until I tell my parents,” I say. “And knowing my dad he’ll want to catch it all on camera.” There’s no way I’m having my love life exposed to millions of reality TV watchers. “So I thought I’d tell them after the game. Once the filming is over and he can’t make a thing out of it for ratings.”

The softest expression washes over his face. “You’re okay with telling them about us?”

I take a deep breath. “Yes. I want to. I just need to time it right.” I wait for him to say something but he doesn’t.

“You want me to, right?” I ask, not understanding his silence.

He walks into the shower, still wearing his shorts and scoops me into his arms.

“Your phone,” I tell him.

“Oh shit.” He looks at his cell still in his hands. “Ah well.” He puts it outside the shower and comes back to hold me again. Water is pouring down his hair, his face, his body. And he’s got a smile as wide as the ocean.

“Are you okay with me telling them?” I ask again, needing the reassurance.

“Hell, yes I’m okay. I’m fucking ecstatic,” Eli says, still grinning.

The weird thing is, so am I.